Luke. “Would you mind serving these?”
Luke glanced at her and at the people still standing by the door. He took the plates to the tables, found the ketchup, and hung back talking to the customers while Laura walked to the door to greet Corbin and his mother.
“Hi, Corbin.”
The woman stopped whispering and stared at Laura, looking her up and down.
Corbin cleared his throat. “Laura, this is my mother, Beatrice Brill. Mother, this is Laura Whitfield.”
Laura extended her hand. “How nice to meet you, Mrs. Brill. I hope you came for lunch today.” Laura grabbed two menus and escorted her guests to a table.
“Would you have time to sit with us?” Corbin asked.
“No, sorry. I’m the owner of this charming establishment, and I’m also the chief cook and bottle washer.”
“You poor dear,” said Mrs. Brill. She spoke quietly, but Laura not only heard the words, she heard the meaning behind the words.
Laura lifted her chin. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but Queenie left this place to me, and I intend to make something of it.” Nobody was putting her down directly or by implication.
She looked around for Luke, pleading with her eyes. A slight motion of her head was all it took. He was by her side in an instant. “Luke, this is Beatrice Brill and her son, Corbin Brill, from West Palm Beach. Corbin, Luke Windsor is my new business partner. We’re going to turn this café into a thriving business.”
“Well, that’ll certainly take some doing, won’t it?” said Mrs. Brill, and Laura felt like slapping her. The other customers, all locals and regular customers, grew quiet. Corbin’s face reddened. He jumped out of his chair and leaned toward Laura. “I need to speak with you in private.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
“Go ahead,” said Luke. “I’ll take care of Mrs. Brill.”
Laura walked out to the parking lot with Corbin, wondering what was so important.
He didn’t say anything until they were standing in the shade beside the door. “Laura, I... I came to ask you something, and it looks like I came just in time. Surely you’re not planning to work in this...” He waved his hand at the building. “...horrid place.”
She crossed her arms. “This horrid place is my place of business. I know it doesn’t look like much on the outside, but I’ve been working on the inside, and—”
“Laura, please be reasonable. A woman of your breeding doesn’t belong in a place like this.”
“My breeding ? I grew up in a ‘place like this.’ I worked in this café from the time I was eight years old until Queenie threw me out last year.”
He stepped back as if slapped. “But I met you in—”
“We met at the mall, in Nordstrom. I told you I was waiting for a friend. She was the one buying clothes, not me. I shop in the discount stores.”
“But I came here to propose. Mother said the Whitfield name was prominent in—”
“Propose?” Surely he was kidding. They hadn’t gone out more than eight or ten times, and all they’d ever done was kiss. And he wanted to marry her? What alternate universe was he from?
Mrs. Brill came out calling, “Corbin, take me home. This is not a fit place to eat.”
Ignoring the rude woman, Laura took Corbin’s hand. “If you had asked, the answer would have been no. I’m not what you... and your mother... are looking for in a wife.”
“Corbin,” his mother called, and the shrill sound cut into Laura’s eardrums.
She stepped back. “Goodbye, Corbin. Have a nice life.”
She walked back into the café. Her first marriage proposal, and he was too stunned by who she really was to get the words out. What gave him the idea she was somebody special? She was Laura Whitfield, owner of two dumpy businesses, slinger of hash, and waitress to the good ole boys of Kingston, Florida.
Luke asked, “Was that a ring in his shirt pocket?”
“Apparently he thought I was from a different Whitfield family. The wealthy ones who would never be seen
Luke glanced at her and at the people still standing by the door. He took the plates to the tables, found the ketchup, and hung back talking to the customers while Laura walked to the door to greet Corbin and his mother.
“Hi, Corbin.”
The woman stopped whispering and stared at Laura, looking her up and down.
Corbin cleared his throat. “Laura, this is my mother, Beatrice Brill. Mother, this is Laura Whitfield.”
Laura extended her hand. “How nice to meet you, Mrs. Brill. I hope you came for lunch today.” Laura grabbed two menus and escorted her guests to a table.
“Would you have time to sit with us?” Corbin asked.
“No, sorry. I’m the owner of this charming establishment, and I’m also the chief cook and bottle washer.”
“You poor dear,” said Mrs. Brill. She spoke quietly, but Laura not only heard the words, she heard the meaning behind the words.
Laura lifted her chin. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but Queenie left this place to me, and I intend to make something of it.” Nobody was putting her down directly or by implication.
She looked around for Luke, pleading with her eyes. A slight motion of her head was all it took. He was by her side in an instant. “Luke, this is Beatrice Brill and her son, Corbin Brill, from West Palm Beach. Corbin, Luke Windsor is my new business partner. We’re going to turn this café into a thriving business.”
“Well, that’ll certainly take some doing, won’t it?” said Mrs. Brill, and Laura felt like slapping her. The other customers, all locals and regular customers, grew quiet. Corbin’s face reddened. He jumped out of his chair and leaned toward Laura. “I need to speak with you in private.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
“Go ahead,” said Luke. “I’ll take care of Mrs. Brill.”
Laura walked out to the parking lot with Corbin, wondering what was so important.
He didn’t say anything until they were standing in the shade beside the door. “Laura, I... I came to ask you something, and it looks like I came just in time. Surely you’re not planning to work in this...” He waved his hand at the building. “...horrid place.”
She crossed her arms. “This horrid place is my place of business. I know it doesn’t look like much on the outside, but I’ve been working on the inside, and—”
“Laura, please be reasonable. A woman of your breeding doesn’t belong in a place like this.”
“My breeding ? I grew up in a ‘place like this.’ I worked in this café from the time I was eight years old until Queenie threw me out last year.”
He stepped back as if slapped. “But I met you in—”
“We met at the mall, in Nordstrom. I told you I was waiting for a friend. She was the one buying clothes, not me. I shop in the discount stores.”
“But I came here to propose. Mother said the Whitfield name was prominent in—”
“Propose?” Surely he was kidding. They hadn’t gone out more than eight or ten times, and all they’d ever done was kiss. And he wanted to marry her? What alternate universe was he from?
Mrs. Brill came out calling, “Corbin, take me home. This is not a fit place to eat.”
Ignoring the rude woman, Laura took Corbin’s hand. “If you had asked, the answer would have been no. I’m not what you... and your mother... are looking for in a wife.”
“Corbin,” his mother called, and the shrill sound cut into Laura’s eardrums.
She stepped back. “Goodbye, Corbin. Have a nice life.”
She walked back into the café. Her first marriage proposal, and he was too stunned by who she really was to get the words out. What gave him the idea she was somebody special? She was Laura Whitfield, owner of two dumpy businesses, slinger of hash, and waitress to the good ole boys of Kingston, Florida.
Luke asked, “Was that a ring in his shirt pocket?”
“Apparently he thought I was from a different Whitfield family. The wealthy ones who would never be seen
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